


everything will be alright

by anaesthetist



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Breaking Up & Making Up, Complicated Relationships, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Moving In Together, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 08:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12837375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaesthetist/pseuds/anaesthetist
Summary: It’s predestined to fall apart, but the beginning makes for a nice story.He’s not Calum’s type, and maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice him straightaway—doesn’t notice him until he’s standing right in front of him, body leaning against the bar, playing with the fraying edges of his denim jacket as he waits for a barman to serve him. Calum watches him solely for nothing better to do, eyelashes fluttering against the rim of his pint glass as he takes another drink. He orders a vodka and coke, and when he finally gets it, his body twists, hip against the bar as he looks back out at the dancefloor, searching for something Calum’s not looking to find, but might just have found anyway.(or, Calum and Luke love each other very much, but.)





	everything will be alright

**Author's Note:**

> ah, a cake fic as trashy as the noughties indie music it is inspired by.

It’s predestined to fall apart, but the beginning makes for a nice story.

He’s not Calum’s type, and maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice him straightaway—doesn’t notice him until he’s standing right in front of him, body leaning against the bar, playing with the fraying edges of his denim jacket as he waits for a barman to serve him. Calum watches him solely for nothing better to do, eyelashes fluttering against the rim of his pint glass as he takes another drink. He orders a vodka and coke, and when he finally gets it, his body twists, hip against the bar as he looks back out at the dancefloor, searching for something Calum’s not looking to find, but might just have found anyway.

Or maybe he is. Calum’s not sure what he wants as he bobs around, glass in hand, something much stronger burning the back of his throat now. There’s plenty of decent-looking blokes around, but none worth the potentially humiliating effort of taking home.

He finds him again in the gents’ toilets, laughing with his head lolled to the side against the condom dispenser on the wall while some other bloke makes handsy grabs at his arse. His laugh is high and squeaky, untamed like a child, and Calum, intoxicated, finds himself laughing too as he washes his hand. He looks back, watching the boy’s ringed fingers slide over the back of the other guy’s back, and catches his eye. They’re blue, Calum can tell in this light. Pretty. The rest of the boy is rough, bags under his eyes like he doesn’t sleep enough, but Calum could fuck him. He could get off to those long legs and broad shoulders and pretty blue eyes.

His name is Luke—or at least, that’s what he shouts hot and wet in Calum’s ear. His body is warm, burning up against Calum’s side as they move to the beat of the bass thrumming through them.

“Where’s your friend?” Calum asks, hoping he understands what he means. “From before, in the toilets, you seemed—”

“Bit camp for me,” Luke says, tilting his head down. His curls brush against Calum’s face as he leans in close. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but.”

“Bit camp,” Calum repeats, lifting up a clumsy hand to touch at the thin piece of fabric around Luke’s neck. He’s only ever seen girls wear them before, but Luke pulls it off. “What do you like?” Calum asks.

“I like you,” Luke says, smiling and pressing his nose into the side of Calum’s neck. His hands feel up his back, and Calum can feel the cold drag of his jewellery through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. He reaches around to sneak his own hand around to settle on Luke’s waist, tilting his head to the side when he begins to kiss his neck. “You wanna…?”

Calum does—he does want to, so he grabs his jacket from the cloakroom and pulls Luke out into the fair September midnight air. He fishes for a smoke as Luke keeps his body close, hips ticking forward into his side and hand palming over the front of his jeans. No one cares as they pass and Calum smokes, the gravely grunts of some other dudes fucking in the alley beside the bar filling the air. Luke says he can take him round there if he wants, but Calum only laughs, billowing smoke skywards as he combs his fingers though Luke’s curly locks and keeps his face firmly pressed into the side of his neck.

This isn’t something Calum does a lot, but he knows some of the etiquette involved. He knows to be nice, to be interesting, to try and stifle his laugher when Luke goes stumbling into the bus stop advertising screen. They’re alone, so there’s no harm in it.

“What are you doing, you fucking weirdo?” Calum laughs. Luke’s still splayed against the screen, obscuring a human-shaped slice from the adverts that roll down and glow back in Calum’s face. Laughter continues to jump out of him as he reaches out, pulling Luke back to him by his bicep. He does it too hard, Luke’s body knocking into his and sending him falling back, his backside mercifully meeting the cold seat before they both end up on the ground.

Calum spreads his legs where he sits, letting Luke stand between them. He leans forward, pressing his face into his stomach as he feels Luke’s hand rub over his head. He drapes his arms lazily around the backs of Luke’s thighs, chin digging into the soft flesh of his tummy. He could fall asleep here, he thinks.

When the bus comes, Luke throws in enough change for the both of them. He’s barely got a chance to say thank you before Luke’s pulling him to the very back of the bus. Luke steals the seat closest to the window, but as soon as Calum’s sat down beside him, he shifts up onto his lap, tucking himself up tightly to fit in the small space. Calum wraps an arm around his shoulder.

“What’se this mean?” Luke asks, making a clumsy grab for the hand resting on his shoulder. He screws up his eyes as though the small letters on the side of Calum’s hand are swimming around on his skin.

“None of your business,” Calum says, because it isn’t.

Luke butts his forehead gently against Calum’s. His fingers skim over the back of his hand, edge of his nail dragging over the ink-scarred skin. If he really wants to know, he doesn’t ask again, choosing to nudge down his face and kiss along the underside of Calum’s jaw instead.

For all the featherlight kisses he leaves there, once Calum’s front door is closed behind them, Luke’s touch is rough. He tugs off Calum’s jacket, backs him against the wall with a thunk. Through a slowly sobering haze, Calum’s head pulses with the pain as Luke presses himself flat against him, tongue working its way into his mouth with only the slightest hesitation. Calum likes this; it’s a quiet, giddy part of him, but he loves the feeling so much. Loves Luke’s sharp nails and warmth mouth and benign threat to stay still while he takes him down his throat.

He can’t help fucking a little into his mouth, though. He tries not to, fists coming back to slam against the wall, but it’s no use. He looks down at Luke, on his knees, face obscured by the hair curtaining his face, and he can’t help it.

When he does, Luke doesn’t seem too displeased, groaning as he brings his hands up to curl around the fabric of Calum’s boxers and jeans, pushed haphazardly halfway down his thighs. He pulls off, a string of drool connecting his lips with Calum’s cock until he runs his tongue along them.

“If we were gonna do this against a wall, we could’ve done it in that alley,” Luke jokes, jerking Calum with a hand idly. “Could’ve had me against the wall.”

“’m not that type of guy,” Calum says.

Luke sighs in faux amazement, hot breath sticking to the saliva on Calum’s dick on the exhale. “Wow, the gentleman I’ve always dreamed of.”

Calum is a gentleman—or at least, for tonight, he can pretend to be, and Luke would be none the wiser. That’s the fun thing about taking someone home; you can be whoever you want to be, and nobody ever has to know the truth, what you’re really like, what the tattoos on your hands mean. Calum is a gentleman, so he encourages Luke up with a finger hooked under his chin, kisses his pouty mouth and backs him into his bedroom, shuffling awkwardly as his jeans slide down and catch at his knees.

“Sexy,” Luke snickers as Calum kicks them off.

He shoves Luke down, crawling after him a second later.

“You’re such a dick,” he says, undoing Luke’s jeans and shoving his hand down the front of Luke’s boxers. “Do you wanna— _shit_ ,” Calum groans as Luke gets a hand back around him to. “Shit, man, feels good.”

Luke rocks his hips up into Calum’s hand, whining and disgruntled from the effort. His dick is warm in Calum’s hand, and Calum tries not to think about how long it’s been, how long since he’s been this intimate with someone. It’s not something he purposely avoids, nor does he lack opportunity, but there’s something that always stops him. Something inherent, maybe. Whatever it is, Luke has gone hurtling through, and he’s already panting about how fucking close he is.

“Not take much, huh?” Calum teases, squeezing his palm around Luke’s hard cock. It kicks a little in his hand. “Fuck, dude.”

Luke’s sort of—sort of beautiful with his hair sticking to his face and his mouth dropped open around half a dozen different curse words and something that resembles Calum’s name. Calum can’t help but lean towards him, forehead tipping against the line of Luke’s shoulder. From here, he can see the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple beneath the dark fabric of his choker, and it’s here Calum’s eyes stay until he feels the hot splash of come on his stomach, dripping back down over his knuckles.

Luke’s breathing hiccups, but his grip on Calum’s dick doesn’t falter. He lifts his head to watch what he’s doing, and Calum laughs gently at the sight with his eyebrows knitted tightly, a pleasant heat coiling nicely in the pit of his stomach.

When Calum comes, he makes a sound like he’s been punched in the gut. Luke seems to take more pleasure in this than he did getting off, judging by the shit-eating smile on his face as Calum gets off of him, leaving him to lazily run his fingers through the come glistening over his stomach and crotch. Calum watches him catch some before it dribbles down the inside of his thigh, bring his fingers to his lips and suck them clean.

Luke sits up a little and smacks his lips together. “What’s that face for?”

Calum doesn’t realise he’s scrunching his face up in mild disgust until Luke tries to imitate it, little nose wrinkling. He pacifies his face, says, “Nothing.”

Luke hums, lying back down again with an arm tucked behind his head. He turns to face Calum. “Wanna go again?”

“Now?” Calum asks, reaching out to touch Luke’s soft dick.

Luke whines low in his throat, hips twitching to get away from the touch of Calum’s hand. “In a bit,” he says. “Give me, like, five minutes.”

Five turns into fifteen, and by the time Luke’s got his fingers in him, mouthing against the side of his dick, Calum’s just short of begging for it. The sheets are twisted and damp beneath him, partly from the sweat building up on his back, and partly from the mess Luke makes with the lube. Despite the clear maladroitness that Calum guesses transcends into Luke’s sobriety, he opens him up nice, slow, mouth pursed in concentration when it’s not taking Calum’s dick in it. Before he pushes in, he leans over Calum, kisses him with his hair in his face.

Luke fucks Calum with his face hidden in the curve of his neck, choking on ever whine that threatens to leave him. Calum jacks himself off, his other hand roaming the length of Luke’s back, pausing to tighten in the hair at the back of his head and lift off to come back down heavy on his ass. Luke really seems to like that.

Luke is even quieter when he comes this time, breathing weird into Calum skin. He pulls out and takes the condom off before crawling down between Calum’s legs, knocking his hand away and taking over. When Calum comes, it’s in Luke’s mouth. It would be hottest thing ever if Luke didn’t gag most of it back up into his hand afterwards.

“Bit rude, that,” Calum says.

Luke runs his tongue along his front teeth, grimacing. He wipes the drooly come on his hand on Calum’s stomach.

“Piss off,” he says back, voice watery. He clears his throat, then yawns. “Not gonna send me home now, are you?”

“Probably should,” Calum says, only for Luke to slide towards him, arms tightening around his torso and groaning into his chest. “Probably won’t,” he adds and pretends not to feel the stretch of Luke’s smile against his skin.

*

In the cold, sober light of day, the happy beginning rumbles on.

Luke is half awake when Calum slips out of bed to make them tea, but he’s completely up when Calum gets back, holding two cups as he stands dumbly by the door, watching Luke bend down to retrieve his phone from his jeans. He stares at his bare arse until he turns around, smiling sleepily. His hair is all tousled, sticking up wildly in places it shouldn’t, and there’s a mouth-shaped bruise on the bottom of his throat that Calum doesn’t remember making.

“Morning,” he says.

It’s weird and awkward, and suddenly Calum remembers why he hates this.

“Mornin’. Did you…sleep well?” Calum asks.

He doesn’t look like he has, but he nods. “I’ve woke up feeling better,” he says, laughing gently, pushing a hand through his hair. Calum tries not to look at his dick, which is weird, he knows, because he’s had it up his ass, but it still doesn’t seem polite. “Is that tea?”

“Yeah,” Calum says, holding one out towards Luke. “It’s milk and one sugar,” he adds as Luke takes a few steps forward to take it from him. “Hope that’s alright.”

Luke smiles, says, “Perfect,” as his fingers brush Calum’s. Tea in one hand, phone in the other, he climbs back over Calum’s bed and gets beneath the sheets. He takes a sip and looks up at Calum, expectant. His eyes are as pretty as Calum remembers. “Are you working today?”

“No,” Calum says, moving towards his bed. He sits back against the pillows, careful not to spill any of his tea over himself. “I’ve got weekends off most of the time, so…yeah. You?”

“Same.”

Calum nods, busying himself with his tea. He blows into his cup to cool it down, but still swears quietly when it burns at the skin of his lip.

“Did you have fun?” Luke asks.

Calum looks over at Luke. He’s sitting up, hunching forward. The sheets bunch against where his stomach folds a little from the way he’s sitting. There’s something bleary in his eyes, something painful that fills Calum’s chest with a heavy ache until he finds himself rubbing at his own chest, trying to relieve the tension. Throat strung tight, he says nothing, but nods instead, forcing out a smile.

Luke gives him a smile back. “So did I.” He uses his cup to cover his mouth when it gets even bigger, mind filling with a memory Calum can only guess. His teeth clink against the edge. “A lot. Can I have your number?”

Calum’s not usually one for handing out his number to strangers, but there is something about Luke that he likes, even if it is just a passing infatuation. He gnaws at the skin of his lip, tearing it up a little, then swaps his cup of tea for his own phone, sitting on the nightstand, battery precariously low from forgetting to charge it. Once he’s unlocked it, he passes it over to Luke, and takes his in return. He punches in his number and hands it back, a nervous shake to his hand.

Still playing gentleman, Calum offers to walk Luke down to the bus stop. He quietly hopes that he’ll decline, but he doesn’t, smiling sweetly as he tugs on his jacket. He’s unchanged, unwashed, and his breath smells of cock, he laughs, hand covering his mouth. Calum doesn’t brush his teeth out of some sort of twisted loyalty. 

There are people at the bus stop, and Luke is not so handsy with him this time around. Calum stays huddled in his hoodie, burying himself into the folds as he keeps his eyes on the direction of the traffic passing by. Luke, meanwhile, bobs around, refusing to stay still. Calum can’t remember the click of his heeled boots being so loud the night before, but the sound echoes around in his head until it hurts. The bright light of the new morning doesn’t help his hangover at all, either.

When the bus comes, Luke sort of swoops down, pressing a quick kiss to Calum’s cheek. He stiffens, hoping the other people around them didn’t notice.

“Thanks for last night,” he says quietly by Calum’s ear.

Calum chokes a little on the embarrassment, skin staining pink and burning.

“No bother, mate.”

With one last little smile, Luke is off, and Calum knows deep inside that it’s not the last time.

*

The next time turns out to be later that day.

He’s in the middle of Aldi, holding up the lid of the freezer and staring at what microwavable meal for one he’s going to subject himself to tonight when his phone goes off. He swears, letting the lid fall shut and fishes his phone out of his pocket, awkwardly bumping his basket between his hip and the freezer.

He’s surprised to see it’s Luke.

“Hey, man,” Calum says. He keeps his voice low, eyeing the elderly couple that shift past him. “Something up?”

“Nothing, actually, so I was wondering if—if you wanted to hang out again later,” he says, and Calum almost snorts. He would hardly call what they did last night _hanging out_. “Unless you’ve got something better to do.”

Calum doesn’t, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he wants to spend time with Luke again. He sucks on the inner walls of his cheeks, thinking, eyes on the two-for-one pizzas stacked in the next freezer. He supposes it wouldn’t be too bad, and the sex is good if nothing else.

“Bring beers up to mine?” he suggests. “I’ll stick us in a pizza,” he says, shuffling over and awkwardly opening up the freezer. Briefly balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder, he manages to throw two pizzas into his basket. “If that’s cool with you, of course. I can’t be arsed going out or anything, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Nah, man, sounds good. About six, then?”

“Six is fine.”

*

Calum leans on the counter by the window, cigarette between his fingers. Through a puff of smoke, he watches Luke take the pizzas out of the oven and slide them onto two plates sitting just off to Calum’s side. After a few more hours of sleep, he looks much more alive, much chirpier. He’s wearing just a t-shirt and shorts, and Calum won’t pretend he doesn’t spend a good amount of time watching where the fabric of Luke’s shorts stretches over his arse. It’s nice. He wants to fuck him.

“Nice place,” Luke says as they sit down in the living-room. Luke folds his legs beneath him as he sits, exposing a small hole in the bottom of his mismatched socks. It’s endearing, almost, Calum thinks as he sinks his teeth into the plasticky pizza. “Wish I didn’t have to share.”

Calum chews slowly.

“You didn’t notice yesterday?”

“Too busy sucking your cock to notice,” Luke replies with a nonchalance that dies under his shrill giggles.

“Fair enough,” Calum says, shaking his head and ducking his head down to hide a small. He’s not going to give Luke the satisfaction for that one, his cheeks burning again. “Should’ve known. So you don’t live on your own then?”

Luke shakes his head, no. He abandons his pizza temporarily to crack open a can of beer and take a sip. “I live with my best mate Michael. It’s pretty decent, but I don’t get the privacy, y’know? And he likes to walk around with his dick out a lot.”

“Seems like something you’d be into,” Calum says, and he can’t exactly complain when Luke kicks out a leg, telling him off. “Kidding on, kidding on,” he defends himself, trying to make a grab for Luke’s ankle to keep his foot from connecting with the top of his thigh again. “I like it on my own,” Calum admits, voice dropping to a soft, hushed tone. “I prefer it, actually.”

“Want me to leave?” Luke asks, laughing with a thumb pointing over his shoulder.

Something stirs inside Calum when he realises that he doesn’t want him to; he wants him to stay put, right where he is. To stop himself from saying anything rash, though, Calum turns on the television and they sit in silence as they make short work of their pizza. With the quietest thank you from Luke, Calum clears their plates and brings more beer through, tapping the lid and opening up it for Luke, making sure to bump his cold hands against Luke’s warm ones as he does.

“Such a gentleman,” Luke teases.

“You love it,” Calum says.  

Luke doesn’t retort, sinking further away from Calum into the opposite arm of the chair. There’s something odd about him, something familiar. Calum’s not a big believer in any sort of past life, but maybe it would make sense if it were true. Maybe there’s a life before this one that he knew everything about Luke—all his desires and secrets, what he loved and what he didn’t. Right now, he’s a blank canvas, and he can be anyone Calum wants him to be.

Three more cans of beer later and Luke is crawling into Calum’s lap, heavy and warm and only mildly intoxicated, his hands holding his head completely still as he bites down on his lip for a kiss. Calum groans, hands sliding over Luke’s backside, up his back, catching under his t-shirt and pushing it up until it’s all the way off, landing somewhere on the floor beside him. Luke straightens up, bringing his chest eyelevel with Calum, and pulls him forward, encouraging him to mouth hot and wet over the centre of his chest.

Calum gropes at Luke’s ass.

“Wanna fuck me?” Luke asks, sitting back on Calum’s thighs.

Calum slides a clammy hand around the back of Luke’s neck, the other continuing to squeeze at his ass. He sort of wants to, but he sort of can’t be bothered with the effort of it all. As a compromise, as if Luke can read his mind, he settles on stripping them both down and rutting their dicks together, letting fat drops of spit drip down between them as he uses his hands around the both of them. He never tells Calum not to touch, but he takes it as a given, settling his palms over Luke’s ass, pressing the pads of his fingers against his hole, feeling it pulse, feeling it open.

Luke comes over Calum’s stomach first, slumping forward until their foreheads meet.

“You gotta fuck me next time,” Luke breathes in his face, making Calum’s eyes flutter shut. “Need it in me,” he says, jerking him off, fist dirty with his own come. The noise is slick and obscene, and Luke has never looked more in his element. “So fucking desperate for a decent cock.”

Calum tries to laugh, but it’s hard with his heart hammering and his head swimming. He slides his head forward until his mouth meets the curve of Luke’s neck, leaving little kisses there until his mouth goes lax and he’s coming between the both of them.

“Desperate for a decent cock, huh?” Calum says afterwards, handing Luke a washcloth to wipe himself down.

“Just said it to get you going and that,” Luke says, running the cloth over the tops of his thighs, and Calum scoffs. “Bit of an ego boost, y’know? Thought you might need it.” He throws the cloth back; Calum barely manages to catch it before it hits him square in the face.

“You’re such a dick,” he says.

Luke cocks his head, hair falling to the one side. His tongue is caught between his teeth, and Calum knows something cheeky is to follow.

“You like dick, though,” he says, and Calum can’t argue with that.

*

The following Friday night, Calum goes to Luke’s apartment.

It’s Michael, not Luke, that answers the intercom and opens the door to him. He seems nice, if not a little awkward, as he leads Calum into their apartment, the air thick with the earthy smell of weed and the sound of Oasis playing in the background. He smiles when he sees Luke, kneeling by the coffee table with his tongue running along the edge of a rolling paper. He looks different today, his hair pulled back tightly into a messy bun and his nails painted a deep purple. He’s up and in Calum’s arms before he has time to register it.

“Nice to see you,” Luke says, squeezing him tight.

They’ve been talking all week, unable to stop. Calum can’t remember having such difficulty cutting someone off before, but that would require _wanting_ to, and Calum quite likes Luke’s company and his lame, early morning, slightly sick jokes. He’s got tonnes more for him now, boosted by the presence of Michael who plays off his humour easily. They’re quite the pair, Calum quickly finds, shaking his head as Luke settles himself down on his lap, hooking his arm around his neck to keep his balance as he passes the joint he’s rolled between himself and Michael.

“You sure you don’t want a puff?” Luke says, hovering the joint close by Calum’s mouth.

Calum shakes his head.

“I’m paranoid enough as it is,” he laughs, clapping his hand down on Luke’s side. He twists his fingers into the ratty fabric of Luke’s t-shirt, pinching at his skin accidentally.

Smoke cascades out of Luke’s lips as he smiles and rests his head against Calum’s shoulders.

He wants Maccas soon after, and Calum doesn’t have any choice but to go with him. Michael is cool, but Calum wants to be alone with Luke, wants to blindly grab for his hand as they walk down the dark street. Luke’s a lot quieter when he’s high as opposed to when he’s drunk, his eyes and thoughts floating off somewhere above Calum, only the slightest giggle escaping him when Calum stares, incurious, when he slips into the booth by the window and says he wants chicken nuggets and a McFlurry.

Luke eats like he’s starving, crushing the nuggets into his mouth with little regard to anything but the hunger burning a hole in his stomach. Calum smiles around the straw of his milkshake, unable to help it, too endeared not to.

“Good?” he asks.

“So fucking good,” Luke says, beginning on his ice-cream. “Thanks.”

Calum rests his chin in his hands, smiling, “Don’t mention it. Ever dipped the chips in your ice-cream?” he asks then. When Luke shakes his head, he picks up a few chips and motions for Luke to take the lid off his McFlurry. “It’s so fucking good,” he says, covering the chips before lifting them up to Luke’s mouth. “Here.” Luke opens up, easy and trusting. “Good, right?” he asks, pulling his hand away as Luke chews and swallows.

“Shit, dude,” is all Luke says.

“I know, man. I know.”

They’re all alone in McDonald’s but for the few remaining members of staff and a man in a business suit nursing a coffee as he flicks through some papers on the opposite end of the restaurant. It feels nice enough, safe enough to touch Luke’s hand over the table, fingertips traveling over the valleys of his knuckles, gliding over the rings he still wears.

Luke’s licking the side of his plastic spoon when he asks, “So what do they mean?”

Calum turns his hand a little, letting Luke see the tattoos on his hands a little better. It’s still not Luke’s business, but Calum tells him anyway. “It’s just my parents’ initials. These are my mum’s,” he says, nodding down to the hand on the table, then brings up the other, “and these are my dad’s.”

“Cute,” Luke says. “You must really love them.”

“I do,” he says, smiling fondly at the thought. “I’ve got my sister’s name, too.”

“Mali-Koa,” Luke blurts as Calum moves to push up his sleeve. He pauses. “I, like, seen before, when you were sleeping. I looked at them all. You should tell me what they all mean sometime.”

Calum takes hold of Luke’s hand again, fingers interlocking.  

*

They’re almost halfway back when Luke says he doesn’t want to go home just yet, pulling Calum down into a side street and sliding down the wall until their backsides meet the concrete. Calum laughs despite himself, curling a hand around the crook of Luke’s elbow, telling him to get back up, that this looks so shady. Luke insists that it doesn’t, voice a high whine, so Calum gives up pitifully, settling back to tilt his head against the cold brick, staring up at the slice of dark sky on show above them.

Luke’s not looking at the sky, but at Calum.

Calum laughs gently, but it jumps in his throat.

“Got a problem?” he asks.

Luke leans forward a little, lips curved in a permanent smile, tongue caught between his teeth again. “I really wanna touch your face,” he answers.

Calum quirks an eyebrow up.

“Why?”

“It’s a good face,” Luke says, getting closer, laying a clumsy hand on Calum’s cheek before pinching at it, eyes gleaming at the way he can manipulate it so easily. “Kinda squishy.”

Calum places his hand over Luke’s, caught between pushing it away and letting it stay there against his face. He opts for the former, dropping his head lower until their foreheads brush against one another. Luke is giggling, hot bursts of breath warming Calum’s features in the midnight air, and like this they stay for a while, frozen on the spot until Calum slips his hand to Luke’s cheek, thumb grazing across the rough stubble there.

Calum barely has to move an inch to press their lips together gently.


End file.
